


Similar Seas

by Acting4Hope



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Argo's Perspective, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, M/M, Memories, Mother-Son Relationship, Parallels, Secret Crush, Trauma, argo takes a mental oopsie wuh woh, takes place during the events of episode 15
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:00:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24567337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acting4Hope/pseuds/Acting4Hope
Summary: Fitzroy’s body hits the ground and all Argo hears are waves.Argo experiences deja vu in the worst way imaginable.
Relationships: Argo Keene & Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt, Argo Keene/Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt
Comments: 12
Kudos: 111





	Similar Seas

**Author's Note:**

> hi it's everyone's favorite disaster writer, a week late from the ep 15 hype train with some argo hurt hrgbhrjbrj
> 
> honestly, i kinda just needed an excuse to write argo because i live in the fitzroy headspace too often (@my gf: u be quiet) and i need to broaden my horizons. but also, w argo already Experiencing a traumatic death, why not draw some parallels babey!!! fun times!!! with also a splash of maplekeene bc ep 15 was PROVIDING thank you very much 
> 
> don't clown my verb tenses if i edit the first half of this anymore i might die, and also the ending half is Barely Edited bc i wrote it all the night i'm posting this so!!! don't clown on me!!! also if very minor details of this aren't correct idc i only wanted to focus on argo for this gjrbgjhrgbrghj
> 
> anyway!!! enough rambling, enjoy!!!

Fitzroy’s body hits the ground and all Argo hears are waves. 

It’s strange how life works. A wise man once said that life was just a series of coincidences--deja vu’s and the like--that only ends in death. Some more spiritual folks believe that deja vu comes from a lapsing of your current life to events that happened in a past life. Even those who are less spiritual and more scientific have a concept of this in their philosophies; alternate realities being thinly connected to our own by a series of electrons and chemical compounds. 

Argo has never considered himself a man of any of these things, but he’s starting to get a little annoyed by the overlap of scenarios.

The world moves almost in slow motion. Fitzroy falls to the ground in a fit of pain and Althea kneels down to assess the source of it. The Firbolg shifts, uneasy, as he turns his head to the assorted centaurs who have noticed the commotion. But Argo remains lost at sea, the invisible chorus of shipmates calling to one another as his mother hits the deck with a thud. 

“He’s been cursed,” Althea says, her voice certain but terrified, like her knowing is more scary than her not. Fitzroy’s gasping for breath by this point, occasionally spasming in his attempt to fight the spell. His eyes roll into the back of his head for a frightening moment before shutting altogether, the seizures eventually stopping shortly after; leaving Fitzroy’s body limp and lifeless on the ground. There is a crowd of centaurs gathered around them now, watching in horror as the half-elf’s movements come to a sudden halt. “I--I need to go back to my tent to figure out the causation, and how we can get him out of this. We--I don’t--” 

“I will go to the Tree,” The Firbolg announces, sounding the most sure of the group. “I will see...what it may know.” Althea is in too much of a panic to consider why that’d be important, so she nods. 

“Right, yes, you do that, Master Firbolg,” Althea says. She stands, nervously pulling at her robes as she falters with staying by Fitzroy’s side or running off to her tent. “And Argo? You--You can, uh…” 

“I’ll stay,” he says, his voice hollow in his ears. Althea studies his face for an imperceptible moment before nodding again and rushing off to her tent. The Firbolg takes his leave as well, and something about his gaze scares the crowd of centaurs away. 

Leaving just the two of them. Argo and Shebrie.

Wait. That’s not right, is it? It’s Fitzroy and Shebrie.

No, wait. That’s not it…right? It’s… 

Argo kneels down in front of both cursed friend and dying mother, the sound of waves drowning out the world around him. 

\---

Shebrie Keene was not a woman who planned to die before her son. If you believed the word of her crew, she was not a woman who planned to die _at all_. What happened to her was a horrible, sudden, tragic series of moments too late. 

Argo was only fourteen when it happened. Barely old enough to run a ship by himself, let alone run a whole crew with it. Bright-eyed and sharp-toothed, Argonaut Keene was a boy made for the sea. His water genasi side proved that enough; but there was something about Argo that made you think that even if he _wasn’t_ a water elemental, he’d still be a sailor. With his father dead and his mother a castaway by her family, Shebrie had no choice but to take Argo along on her narwhaling adventures. She tried to keep him away from danger; teach him the necessary skills for staying alive on a ship like swimming, navigating, and controlling the masts. Along with this came eventual lessons in sailing, sword-fighting, and hand-to-hand combat. 

By the time Shebrie had given up the narwhaling business and became a full-time privateer, Argo was shaping up to be as skilled a captain as his mother. 

That’s when the cough started. 

\---

Fitzroy’s choking on air. Argo tries to remedy this by propping him up a bit in his arms, but it’s no use. He’s sweating bullets, tossing and turning in Argo’s embrace as he battles whatever psychological horrors await behind his eyelids. Argo wishes he knew what was going on with his friend. Wishes he knew how to _help_. 

But, as memory proves, Argo’s always come at the situations horribly ill-prepared. 

“It’s gonna be okay, Fitz,” Argo says, mostly to himself. “I’m here for you, The Firbolgs here for you, I dunno how much Althea is on our side right now but even _she’s_ here for you, Fitz. You just gotta...you gotta wake _up_ , buddy, please.” Fitzroy’s eyes flutter under their lids, and Argo notices not for the first time how ethereal he looks. 

That thought is cut short by another horrifying spasm, which then leads to another long period of lifelessness. Argo holds Fitzroy’s body closer and prays for safe sailing; the only prayer he’s ever known. 

\---

Shebrie taught Argo how to look for warning signs in the weather, but never in a mother. The cough was the first. 

Shebrie, for her part, largely ignored it. The cough came randomly and was often benign, only ever hurting after an extremely strenuous activity. Her crew members eyed her with concern, but she waved them off. Best not draw attention to frivolous matters, especially not in front of her boy. No need to make him worried about something that doesn’t need to be worried about, right?

Argo was left none the wiser. Sure, he knew sometimes his mother would cough, but he assumed it was just a throat clearing. The ocean can spit up quite a bit of coarse material into the air, after all. Whenever a particularly bad fit occurred, Argo would be there with a rag and hearty slap on the back to help her pass it through her system, and she would always smile and laugh and tell Argo he was being too kind. She never told him how badly the coughs started to hurt her, even when they _weren’t_ that violent. 

And she certainly never told him when she started to find blood on the rags he gave her. 

\---

Fitzroy’s lapses of convulsions have stopped entirely, which is worrying. Now the only indicators of his stability are the minor movements of his face, always pained and always frightened. Whatever Fitzroy is facing scares him, and that makes Argo even more scared. Argo remembers when he first met the barbarian, how haughty and better-than-thou he kept himself. Though that’s not fully faded away, Fitzroy’s personality and general brawn has always made Argo think _nothing_ could scare him.

That makes whatever’s tormenting him all the more terrifying to the rogue. The fact that there’s something out there that can scare the guy who stared a Chain Devil down and fought tooth and nail to ensure Argo was safe, it’s...not a good feeling to have. 

The centaurs have started to circle the pair, nervously glancing at Fitzroy’s face to watch for improvement. Argo wishes they would go away so he could handle this in _private_ , but he knows how people secretly love to watch a person die. It’s a morbid curiosity not even the most regal and sophisticated of beings can ignore; the instinct of watching your prey bleed out and die before beginning your feast. It’s why Argo sticks mainly to limes. A memory comes to Argo and he chuckles under his breath, looking down at Fitzroy with a reminiscent grin. 

“Hey, Fitz,” he says, “d’ya remember the first time you saw me bite into a lime like an apple? Boy, do _I_ remember. Yer face was screwed up like it was _you_ who ate it!” He laughs a little harder, making some of the centaurs back away with unease. “What was it you called me? One of yer fancy lad phrases, I can’t quite remember…” His voice trails off as if he’s expecting a response. He’s not quite looking at Fitzroy anymore, so it’s hard to say _what_ he’s expecting. After a moment he snaps his fingers--a feat proven to be a little difficult with the body still cradled in his arms--and laughs. 

“I know what it was!! You--You called me a, uhhhh...a ‘brutish shark’! Hehe, that was it! A shark!” His voice is unnaturally loud, as is the laughter that follows. It’s almost as if he’s compensating for the silence Fitzroy left him with. Or maybe it’s because the waves have gotten louder, and Argo’s starting to smell salt in the air. He sighs and finally looks back to the half-elf. 

Fitzroy is motionless. No eyelid fluttering, no pained scowling, not even a random muscle twitch. He looks like he’s sleeping. If Argo really wanted to, he could close his eyes and pretend to be asleep too, just like they were this morning. Pressed closer than usual because the tents are so tiny, the solid tempo of calm breathing filling the air. Argo could simply forget this moment was even happening and go back to the morning, where Fitzroy would be safe and sound and not mere seconds away from dy--

“Why did it have to be you?” Argo wonders aloud, his voice now barely escaping him. He adjusts his grip so he can carefully move a damp lock of hair out of Fitzroy’s face. “Out of all the people in the world, why did they have to pick _you_ ? We were starting to get along! At least, _you_ were starting to get along with me. I’ve always liked you, Fitz! I never--I’ve never _wanted_ to hide...everything from you. Yo--You’re my _friend_. I--I care about you! We all do! I just--” 

The waves collide and drown out his broken sob, pulling the scared boy back under the surface. 

\---

It was Argo’s fourteenth birthday the first time Shebrie collapsed. 

The crew were gathered all around the young genasi, singing a sailor’s version of a birthday song and occasionally reaching out to slap the boy on the back. Shebrie had just made it onto the deck holding Argo’s favorite confectionery--key lime pie. A large candle was stuck in the middle of it, burning as bright as her smile. Argo’s smile grew when he saw his mother with the pie; he knew how hard it was to keep that kind of stuff hidden from the crew, as well as keeping fresh on a ship. 

Shebrie sang with her crew as she approached, showing no signs of what was to come. 

Then, her singing stopped as her body hit the floor. 

The reaction was immediate. Argo was up and practically leaped the two or so feet to his mother’s side. The pie was destroyed--crushed under her body--but Argo’s only concern was his mother. The crew members surrounded him as he flipped Shebrie over. 

“ _Ma_ !” Argo cried out, tears in his eyes. He’d never seen _anything_ like this before, especially from his mother. He was terrified. 

Shebrie returned to consciousness a few seconds later, looking around bewildered as she slowly gathered what had just transpired. The medic on the ship immediately started asking her questions (“Are you light-headed?” “Did you feel sick this morning?” “Any unfamiliar substances you came in contact with today?” “Do you have a history of fainting spells?”) that, for the most part, went in one ear and out the other. Shebrie calmed her crew down, insisting she was fine and had probably not had enough Vitamin C that day and needed to chomp an orange or two. The crew didn’t want to accept that for an answer, but Shebrie was firm in her resolve; so they heeded their captain’s words and went about cleaning up the mess created by the fall. Argo remained by her side as Shebrie slowly brought herself to a sitting position, worriedly fussing with her the whole way. 

“Sweetheart, I’m _fine_ ,” she insisted to her son with a laugh. 

“No you’re _not_ ! Ma, y’just _collapsed_ fer no reason, like a fish hauled onto shore! You’ve never _done_ that before!” Argo protested. “M-Maybe we should go back to that port and get you to a doctor, see if it has something to do with yer cough--” 

“-- _Argonaut Keene_ .” Argo clammed up immediately at the use of his full name. His mother looked at him with a stern stare. “Would I lie to you about my health?” No response. “I _said_ \--” 

“No, Captain.” Argo answered. 

“So when I tell you that I’m _fine_ \--and I _feel_ fine--and I _know_ I’m fine, is that a lie?” 

“No, Captain.” 

“ _Right_.” Shebrie stared at her son for a long moment before sighing and pulling him into a hug. “I’m sorry for ruining your birthday, baby.” Argo immediately wrapped his arms around his mother, clinging to her and getting out all the residual fear. 

“You didn’t ruin it, Ma,” Argo murmured into her shoulder. “I’m just glad yer okay…I-I dunno what I’d’ve done if you hadn’t woken up…” Shebrie’s eyes widened, though her son could not see. She quickly regained her composure and rubbed soothing circles on his back. 

“I promise you, baby, so long as the sun shines and the skies are blue, yer Ma’s gonna be right here beside you. You got that?” She leaned back and pressed a kiss to his temple. “No one’s gonna be puttin’ your mother in an early grave.” Argo found comfort in her words and nodded, then the two set about cleaning the key lime pie leavings now clinging to both of their clothes. 

The rest of his birthday went by in good spirits. Argo opened all his gifts, including his mother’s gift to him (a leather-bound notebook for sketching, since she saw he had an interest in the painters' work a few ports ago) which he hugged close to his chest before springing up to give his mother a kiss in thanks. She promised him another key lime pie the next time they stopped at that port, and that’s exactly what he got a few weeks later (after the incident had left most of the crew’s minds). 

Conveniently enough, the bakery happened to be a few buildings down from the town doctor. And along with the pie, Shebrie boarded the ship with the results back from the doctor’s appointment she had a week before Argo’s birthday that told her the lung disease she had was fatal. 

Though she had been given medicine to slow the symptoms, the doctor informed her it was too late for any sort of operation to do any good. She would only have a few more months, by this rate. 

Argo had his pie as his mother planned her own death, separated by only a few boards of wood and a towering wall of secrets. 

\---

It’s been about thirty minutes, and Argo’s resorted to reading to Fitzroy. Mostly as a long winded metaphor to insist upon Fitzroy’s worth as a person, regardless of what the pretentious fucks at Clyde Nite’s have instilled into his brain. He’s always seen worth in the barbarian; always noticed his craftiness, well-spoken mannerisms, incredible strength, and incredibly large heart (though fiercely protected by a wall of mistrust). 

He thinks about Deardra’s letter. The life Fitzroy keeps under lock-and-key; the humble life of a country boy brought suddenly to the city by a fierce desire to do good. She said Fitzroy didn’t fit in at the knight school; never wrote home about any friends, or really wrote home at all. There’s something about the way her letter is worded that tells Argo there’s something else to his story--a part she’s not yet willing to give up to him. Fitzroy Maplecourt lives in a delicate web of lies.

Argo knows all-too well how living like that gets once someone has swatted the web away. But he also knows that if he brings the whole thing down, he risks losing a friend in the process. After all, it’s not like Argo’s an innocent party in the lying department, anyway. 

“I don’t blame you for lyin’,” Argo whispers, still wanting to maintain this secret (in case any prying ears are observing). “I’ve seen how hard you’ve been workin’ yer whole life for this whole...knighthood thing. It’s noble! Really, it is. I’d, uh...I’d be honored to be associated with a knight like you.” Even that sentence was a minor falsehood. Because if Argo was to be honest with himself, he knows his admiration goes way deeper than just association. 

Argonaut Keene is a hopeless romantic. Always has been, and always will be. Most of the books he read at sea were pirate-themed romance novels he swiped from his mother’s private collection. So for as long as he’s been able to, he’s been dreaming of sweeping some handsome fella off his feet and carrying him into the sunset. 

It just so happens that, as of recently, that “handsome fella” in his dreams looks eerily similar to Fitzroy. 

He knows he has a crush. He’s had it since Fitzroy Thunderwaved him off his feet during Human Shield Training; looking up at the half-elf who seemed ashamed of his strength and dreamily thinking, “Wow…” Since then, the crush has only grown, as the barbarian has warmed up to him and the Firbolg more and more. Fitzroy may not be the smartest man out there, but he is the bravest, funniest, rudest, kindest, most protective of those he cares about, most boisterous, haughtiest man Argo’s ever known. The fact that Fitzroy thinks his past life as a poor country boy would affect the way Argo--or anyone--sees him is preposterous to the rogue. Fitzroy is a good guy, regardless of social status! He may even be the _best_!

At least, to Argo he’s the best. 

“If I knew you back in knight school, I woulda told off every bully who ever looked your way,” Argo mutters, his cheeks warm from the idea alone. “I-I woulda gone in front of the biggest, toughest guy, and-and I woulda said, ‘You talkin’ about _my_ Fitzy?’ And I woulda punched the guy square in the _nose_ , I swear! And then the other kids would gasp and you’d be all nervous, but I wouldn’t care. I’d shout, ‘Who’s next!’ A-And when nobody said anything, I’d go, ‘That’s what I _thought_ ,’ and I’d grab your hand and walk you right on outta there!” He glances down at Fitzroys hands, limply laying atop his chest like he’s about to be buried. He hesitates for only a moment before reaching out with his free hand and intertwining their fingers together. His face burns as he notes how soft Fitzroy’s hands are. 

“I-I’m sorry I had to find out about your secrets without your permission,” Argo murmurs, squeezing his hand as he does so. “I only know because I _have_ to know, in order to protect you. B-But, if I ever get the chance to tell you, I understand if you wouldn’t wanna be my friend anymore because of it. Just know I...I still think yer the greatest knight Nua’s ever going to see, secrets or not.” Argo studies Fitzroy’s face after he says that, inspecting every inch for a sign of recognition. Burning the image into his brain, in case this really is the end. 

To his surprise, Fitzroy’s face seems to relax after Argo’s speech. The furrowed line of his brow lifts, just a little, and his breathing is even for just a moment. Argo’s breath catches as he watches, hoping beyond hope that Fitzroy wakes up. 

But, as soon as it’s gone, it returns. Fitzroy’s chest rises suddenly before falling back into its previous rhythm. Argo sighs, his heart heavy, and reluctantly untangles his hand from Fitzroy’s to return to his book. 

He picks back up where he left off, the words becoming seafoam in his mouth as he’s lost to memories once more. 

\---

She knows when it’s her time. She feels it the moment she wakes up, bright and early, in the way she can barely catch her breath from the simple act of getting out of bed. The world feels fuzzy around the edges; the skies are grey, the waters rocky, the whole world unusually uneasy. Shebrie Keene knows she’s going to die today.

Argonaut Keene is none the wiser. He gets up, too, just as early. Notes the rocky waters through his porthole, the grey cloudy skies hanging overhead. He throws on a long sleeve shirt to compensate for this, but is otherwise unperturbed. He greets the crew for breakfast and notices his mother’s absence from the table. He thinks nothing of it. 

Shebrie, meanwhile, begins saying her goodbyes. To the sea, to the sky, to every living creature. To her ship, her crew (silently, of course, as to not draw suspicion). She waits to say goodbye to the last thing on her list, as she fears once she does so the weight of the day will finally settle upon her shoulders.

Her cough is gone. Argo notices this and feels relief. Shebrie spends the whole day with her son, burning each and every moment with him into her heart and mind for the last time. Argo notes his mother’s clinginess today and is just grateful for the company; he doesn’t even think to try and remember these final moments. The only time Argo gets a bad feeling is when, in the middle of the day, Shebrie suddenly reaches out and hugs Argo tighter than she ever has before. Even then, Argo doesn’t say anything and just hugs his mother back, assuming she must simply need a hug today. After that, everything seems normal.

And then, just like the first time, Shebrie collapses. 

Only this time, she never wakes up. 

\---

They’ve gone past the hour-mark, and Argo feels the panic start to rise in his system. Fitzroy’s breathing has gotten increasingly more shallow, his chest barely moving to take in a breath by this point. The centaurs that had been watching earlier are back, but not as closed in as they were the first time. Argo can still feel their presence regardless, their hushed whispers morphing to the concerned shouts of his shipmates as Shebrie’s body was carried off the deck and to her private quarters. Only this time, none of the centaurs move to take Fitzroy away from him. 

The nightmares feel all too real, now. Images of his mother’s peaceful rest, her breaths slowly becoming shorter until she simply stopped breathing at all, now mirror-image the body in front of him. He can’t let this happen. Not again. 

The seas are rocky and the grass is hard. Argo can’t seem to place himself in one plane of reality for too long. He feels lost and alone, clinging to a lifeboat that’s also sinking. What was the last thing he said to his mother? His last plea for her life, even when the deal was sealed without his knowledge? 

Argo leans into Fitzroy’s ear, his voice warbling as he finds the words again. 

“I-If you don’t suck it up and come back to us, I’m gonna--I’m gonna get your stuff, and I’m gonna wear _all_ your clothes. I’m gonna put on your doublets, I’m gonna put on all your cloaks, a-and your hats, and your--your fancy _pantaloons_ , and your shoes and socks, and I’m gonna prance around! And--And I’m not gonna--I’m not even gonna _bathe_ first! I’m gonna put ‘em all on, and I’m gonna--gonna wear ‘em _all over the place_. S-So, what do you think of that? Huh?” 

His mother had no response. Neither does Fitzroy. 

Argo’s heart shatters to pieces. 

“P- _Please_ , I can’t...I c-can’t _do this_ again. N- _No_ …” His head collides with the dirt beside Fitzroy’s face and he sobs. The centaurs close in, assuming the worst, preparing their funerary rituals. Argo clings to his friend and cries out for his mother, lost between the two worlds. 

“WAIT!” the voice pierces through the waves, and Argo turns around just as Althea Song breaks through the crowd of centaurs, a wax sealer glowing a faint lavender clutched triumphantly in her hand. “A-Argonaut! Is-Is he--” 

“-- _I don’t know_ ,” Argo replies. This makes Althea pause for just a moment before she kneels down on the other side of Fitzroy. She holds the wax sealer above him and looks to Argo. 

“I know this is going to be hard for you to do, but I need you to _trust me on this_ , alright?” she asks, sounding the most sure Argo’s heard her thus far in this situation. The commanding tone in her voice reminds him of Shebrie, and instinct overrides emotion as he nods. She smiles. “Okay, let go of him.” This catches him off-guard, and he pulls the barbarian closer to himself protectively.

“W-What? I’m not gonna--” he starts, defiant, but the look she levels him halts him again. He glances down at Fitzroy’s expressionless face, giving his frame one final squeeze before laying him gently back on the grass. Althea nods to Argo, a sign of thanks, and holds the wax sealer over his forehead. 

“I’ve imbued this with enough magical charge to hopefully expel whatever psychological spell is holding him,” she explains. “It’s also red-hot, which should help with the physical expulsion of the curse.” 

“Wait, yer gonna--yer gonna _burn_ the curse out of him?” Argo guffaws. Althea Song looks to Argo, and though her face is certain, her eyes show her fear.

So it’s a gamble, then. This could either fix everything, or do nothing at all. 

His mother told him, once, that a solid gamble is sometimes better than a sure-fire possibility. 

_It’s more fun that way_ , she said. 

Althea stamps the sealer down onto Fitzroy’s forehead with the confidence of a narwhaler throwing her spear, and Argo watches the life suddenly return to his friend’s body. 

It’s like he’s just broken the surface of the water, body scrambling for purchase as he gasps for air. Argo immediately goes to reach out but is stopped by Althea, who watches Fitzroy’s movements with the intensity of a mother hen. Fitzroy flounders for a few moments before falling back onto the grass, and though his eyes are still shut, his breathing is full and even. 

_He’s alive_. 

The thought calms the waters of Argonaut Keene’s mind. For the first time since Fitzroy fell, Argo can hear the rustling and bustling of life around him. His whole body is trembling with the weight of the ocean finally pulled from his shoulders. He’s crying harder than before and smiling wider than ever. 

Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt’s eyes crack open and Argo can feel the sun beam on him. 

“If you touch my cloaks, I’ll use my magic to explode your head,” Fitzroy responds, his voice weak and hoarse. Argo clings to every word. He laughs, feeling lighter than he’s ever felt before, certain that he could never love a man more than he does Fitzroy. 

And that’s the kicker, really. Argo always thought those he loved would be stolen from him. Taken out to sea, further than any boat could reach. So he never let himself admit the fondness he felt went anywhere deeper than a crush.

But as Fitzroy comes back to senses, and stares up at Argo with those ocean-blue eyes he’s come to adore, Argo realizes he’s been in deep for a _while_. 

“Welcome back, boyo,” he says with his words. 

But with his heart, he says: _Welcome home_. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this or any of my other works, then feel free to let me know on [my tumblr!](https://lesbian--susie.tumblr.com/)!!! I am always open for requests, theories, or just general clownery on there!!! Also comments and kudos are always appreciated <3


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